


Edge of a Knife

by LightRain_09



Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightRain_09/pseuds/LightRain_09
Summary: After the so-called victory at Batonn, Thrawn considers his next course of action.





	Edge of a Knife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FeartheTalon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeartheTalon/gifts).



> This story is dedicated to FeartheTalon, who asked me to write a story for her using the song "A Dangerous Night" by 30 Seconds to Mars as inspiration. She waited much longer than she should have had to for it and I am so happy to be able to give it to her now.

_“I am a man on fire. You, a violent desire.” -_ 30 Seconds to Mars

 

The stench had found its way into the stretched corridors of the _Chimaera._ It clung to the walls, to his clothing, to the very air itself. It wasn’t particularly strong, and if one focused on the scents of floor cleaner and deodorizers that had been sprayed onto nearly every surface by the sanitation droids, it was almost enough to mask the smells of burnt rubble and charred flesh. But he had never been adept at ignoring that which was inconvenient, and so the ghost of Batonn had trailed him even up into the stars. 

Vanto had made a remark about the weight that had come over the crew. Haunted, he had called them. That had been a relatively new concept when Thrawn had first come to the Empire, but as he passed those who had served under him for years, noted the way their eyes never quite met his, and the tightness in the muscles of their jaws, he would have been hard pressed to miss it. The damage done on Batonn was not limited solely to the newly formed crater on the planet’s surface. 

No one was standing outside his office when he approached, aside from the trooper assigned to maintain security and check the credentials of any who tried to enter. The trooper noticed Thrawn before he reached the door and moved to open it just as he arrived. Thrawn passed him without saying a word, acknowledging his salute with a small nod. He kept moving through the outer doors, down the short darkened hallway where a few statues and fragments of architectural carvings stood bathed in columns of soft light, and into the inner room of his office.

As soon as the door slid shut quietly behind him, he stopped. The weight Vanto had spoken of was not a thing Chiss displayed. He was not even certain whether it was something others of his kind felt, but he had always carried it. He had never spoken of it, not even to his brother, though there had been times when he was almost certain Thrass had known. It had been there in that concerned press of his brother’s mouth that had irritated him so deeply in his youth. He had always taken it as an indication that Thrass thought him weak or insufficient in some way. Now he sometimes found himself missing the way his brother had looked at him when he thought himself unobserved.     

Pulling in a deep breath, Thrawn shut his eyes for a moment and reached back to touch his fingers to the cold, smooth surface of the door. It grounded him. Helped him slow the violent spinning of his thoughts down to something manageable. 

So much had been undone today. Years of planning, of searching, of meticulously accounting for every detail, and it had all been for nothing. All of his work unravelled in the course of a single night. The worst of it was that most of it had been gone even before the disaster that had flattened Creekpath. Before that point, his hope had been to salvage something from the loss, but that too had been wiped away along with thousands of lives. 

A surge of white hot rage coursed through him. Pryce. He knew she was at least partially responsible for that final setback. He had taken everything into consideration. Every foreseeable outcome had been planned and counterplanned for before he had even arrived. Pryce had been the only unknown, a gamble taken and lost. And not his only one. 

Batonn should have been clean and quick and simple. It _should_ have been a victory. And it was likely that many in the Empire would see it as such, but those people were fools, blind to the larger picture like everyone else. He thought he had encountered one exception but he had been wrong about that as well. The man he had met hours ago had been nothing like what he had expected. An idealist to a fault. Self-sacrificing. Short-sighted. How had he misjudged so grievously?

Pulling his fingers away from the door, he pressed them briefly to his forehead and let the coolness seep into his skin. There was little choice now but to recalibrate. Improvisation was not something he enjoyed, and altering his course so late in a plan was often worse. Unfortunately, there was no other option.

His first task would be to mitigate as much of the fallout as possible. His report on what had happened here would have to be done carefully. The admiralty would want every detail in full, and he would have to present it in such a way that calling it an accident could not be misconstrued as an admission of incompetence. And Pryce’s involvement would need to be concealed. She would have to be watched but he might still have a use for her later, and he could not afford to sacrifice pieces when he already held so few. A public statement would also need to be drawn up, something that would assuage the flames of rebellion that would certainly feed from this. Perhaps Vanto would have some insight on that. He had skill with understanding people’s emotions. 

Letting out a careful breath, Thrawn crossed the room to his desk and took his seat. He pulled out his datapad and passed his fingers across the screen to activate it. There was nothing left to do but move forward. It had been his method for years. Move forward, correct your mistakes, and never forget…

Between the assault on Scrim Island and the events at Creekpath, and dealing with the aftermath, he had not set foot in his office for a whole rotation. And to his knowledge, neither had anyone else. So why was he looking at a report about a tibanna gas incident? A report _he_ had written more than ten years ago? 

In hindsight, he should have noticed it the moment he stepped into his office. If he had been less absorbed by his thoughts and more aware of his surroundings- less _complacent_ \- he likely would have, because it was there. The distinct, tense, subtle undercurrent of another presence in the room.

He shifted his gaze to the only thing large enough to hide a person from his sight, a piece of painted wall that had been excavated from some ruins on a mid rim planet, thick enough to conceal a heat signature. He glanced around the room again, looking for something he might have missed, but there was nothing. No residual heat anywhere. Which meant that whoever it was, they had been lying in wait for quite some time. There was usually only one reason for that. 

He set down his datapad slowly. Which would it be? A follower of Cygni’s seeking revenge? A friend? A lover? 

He sat back in his chair, laced his fingers in front of him, and waited.

The wait was not long. The shadows behind the wall shifted and a figure moved out into the open, unhurried and at ease. Nothing in the heat signature gave any hint of fear.

“You haven’t quite sorted it out yet, have you?” A woman’s voice.

Thrawn narrowed his eyes and remained silent. The report announced someone connected to Nightswan. The fact that she was here, and had been here for quite some time, said even more about her than the report. She had boarded the _Chimaera_ undetected, moved amongst the crew, gained access to his office, and broken through several layers of security in the process. All without setting off a single alarm. Resourceful. Clever. Confident. Brilliant at maneuvering through a system without getting caught… 

He almost smiled. Not an error in judgment on his part, then, but a masterful misdirection. Impressive.

Holding her gaze through the darkness, he placed one finger on his datapad and pushed it across the desk towards her. 

She breathed a soft laugh. “Very good, Admiral.” 

“I believe that commendation goes to you. The complexity of your chosen identity was artful. Even I had no intention of looking further.” 

“Really? That is a complement.”

Thrawn ignored the hint of sarcasm and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Which does lead one to question why you would expose yourself now.” 

“I think you know the answer to that, Admiral.” Her voice was even and steady. 

Thrawn nodded but did not move beyond that. The ground had stabilized beneath him once more. He had been misled, true, but his confidence in his initial analysis returned. This… this was Nightswan.

“You would have fared better had you maintained the element of surprise,” he said. 

She chuckled. “I’m sure I would have.” 

“Yet here you are.”

She shrugged. “Here I am.” 

She moved out of the shadows and into the dim lighting of his office, and he took her in. Small in stature and voluptuous, she wore an Imperial uniform that was slightly too small, the material stretched just a little too tight across her breasts and thighs. She moved with the easy gait of someone who was certain of herself and the risk she was taking, as if she had no desire to be elsewhere. 

She approached without hesitation and circled around his desk until she could prop one thigh on the edge, half sitting on it. Her eyes tracked down to the rank plaque fastened to his uniform and she smirked, tapping a finger against it.

“That was clever,” she said. “Sending your boy in with a bomb. His smuggler impersonation could use a little work, though.” 

Thrawn cocked an eyebrow. “Not clever enough, it would seem.” 

“Oh, I think it was just clever enough.” Her voice held a faint touch of amusement. “You got what you wanted, after all. I’m here.” 

“And I suppose the answer as to how you have managed to sneak aboard not only my starship, but into my office as well, is one that will not be forthcoming."

She threw her head back and laughed, a rich, sultry sound that spread into the shadows and curled around the sculpture-topped pedestals forming silhouettes around the darkened edges of the room.

“You don’t need all the answers, Admiral. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?” 

Thrawn frowned. Her words grated across some rough place inside him that, despite his brother’s better efforts, had never been entirely smoothed. He tried another tactic. 

“How did you escape Batonn?” 

Her expression sobered and her humor slipped visibly. A muscle tightened in her jaw and she gave him a long, considering look before answering. “I was never there.”

The answer he had expected. “Cygni was your face.” 

“He was.”

“A devoted partner to die in your place.”

Nightswan’s eyes flashed. “He died for what he believed in. Can the people whose lives you’ve let slip through your hands say the same?” 

Thrawn did not answer.

After a moment, she let out a small breath. “He was the best partner I could have asked for, but he was also his own man. He chose to make his stand with the people of Batonn.”

“You chose otherwise.”

“Battles may be won in the open, Admiral. But wars are won in the shadows.”

“I am not certain I agree.”

One corner of her mouth pulled up. “I figured as much.”

She slipped off his desk and arched her body back in a long stretch, her uniform pulling up just enough to reveal a sliver of bare skin. She came out of it slowly and wandered around the edge of his desk, and picked up a small fertility statue he had acquired some time ago from an outer rim planet. He watched her, the way she claimed whatever space she occupied, the sinuous motions of her fingers as she traced the lines of the statue’s breasts and thighs, generous like hers. 

“You haven’t called anyone,” she noted calmly. 

Thrawn pursed his lips. “I am attempting to determine your new purpose.” 

Her fingers tightened around the statue. “Maybe my purpose hasn’t changed. I always took you for someone who values life. And I do hate being wrong about people.”

Again, Thrawn did not answer. He had learned from his brother the power silence could have. A secret of politics, Thrass had said. If you gave people silence they would usually seek to fill it. It was one of the few Thrawn had found a use for.

“But from the talk I heard on my way here, no one seems to know quite what happened.” Nightswan gently replaced the statue, the tips of her fingers lingering on it as she finally looked at him again. “I thought I would at least give you the chance to explain.”

“It was a miscalculation,” he said.

Nightswan’s expression hardened. “Do you always pay such a high price for miscalculations?”

“Yes. Twice.”

“Not a great track record, Admiral.” 

“They are failures I still carry with me. As this one will be.”

A painful admission, but it gave him what he wanted: a subtle shift in her posture, a flash of surprise. 

“That’s it, then?” she asked. “It was a mistake and even you aren’t perfect?” 

“You did not place yourself in the hands of an Imperial Admiral for an explanation,” Thrawn said. “Do you mean for me to guess at your other intentions?”

She glanced thoughtfully back down at the datapad. “Sometimes the most strategic place to be is inside the cage.”

“Indeed.”

 Nightswan walked back around the desk, dragging her fingers across the surface as she went. She perched on the edge again, close enough this time that her heat reached him through his uniform.

“Cygni sent me a transmission shortly before you cut the city off,” she said. “He thought it was something I would want to hear.”

Thrawn very carefully repressed the hope trying to rise in him. He had not had much use for hope for a long while now. Only results. “About the offer I made him.”

“The offer you made Nightswan,” she corrected. 

Hope was a difficult creature to kill.

“You are here to consider.”

She leaned towards him. The buttons on her uniform were not all the way fastened. The… fit did not allow for it. Her smile this time was crooked, showing a flash of slightly misaligned white teeth. “Let’s call it curiosity for now.”

Thrawn kept his eyes on her face. “What would you like to know?”

She studied him for a moment. Her eyes darted down to his lips. “For starters, I’d like to hear the offer from you directly. To make certain there are no misunderstandings.”

Thrawn shrugged one shoulder. “The offer was straightforward: a position amongst my people to assist them in defending against a true threat.”

“True threat.” She repeated and glanced pointedly down at the ash stains that were still on his uniform. “That seems to be a matter of perspective.”

“Is it?” He countered. “The accidental death of thousands or the purposeful massacre of billions. Would you place those in the same category?”

“If such a threat exists, how is that no one else seems concerned? I assume you’ve told your Emperor.” Her mouth twisted on the last word.

“I have.”

“And yet he does nothing. Apparently, his favor for you doesn’t encompass blind trust.”

“What the Emperor may do without our knowledge is extensive,” Thrawn said. “But everyone has their weakness. I presume hubris is becoming his.”

Nightswan smiled wryly. “Or he knows something you don’t.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “A possibility.”

“And why do you think I would be able to help your people? What good could I possibly do there?”

“One skilled and competent person may be the difference between battles won and lost.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “And yet they got rid of you?”

Thrawn grimaced. He tried to conceal the barb that twisted in him, but Nightswan was faster and had no qualms about twisting it a little more.

She went on conversationally. “Cygni told me your exile was a cover. Is that true? Or did they really throw you out for taking proactive measures?”

“I am of better service to my people here,” he said firmly.

“That’s not an answer, Admiral.”

“No. It is not.”

She nodded. “And what’s the difference between facing it there or facing it here?”

“There may not be one,” he admitted. “But I like to be prepared.”

“And you expect me to take your word for it,” she said. “Are you used to people trusting whatever you say?”

Thrawn reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a data stick, holding it out to her. She accepted it as if she were doing him a favor, turning it over in her hands.

“Proof?”

“Of a sort,” Thrawn said. “If you know where to look.”

“Speculation, then.” 

“Speculation has no foundation. This is deduction.”

She grunted. “If you say so.”

Thrawn curled his fingers around the arm of his chair and squeezed. “Your skills are wasted here.”

She gave him a dangerous look. “Tell that to the families of those who just died. Or the people starving in backplanet slums because the Empire can’t be bothered with them. You want me to abandon them to go running off after something that may not reach us for another thousand years? I’m not another loyal dog for you, Admiral.”

“How do you plan on helping them against the Empire?” he said. “By burning it down one piece at a time? You cannot burn down a house and expect to save the people inside.”

“Maybe I’ll light the fire with one hand and open the window with the other.”

“A risky decision. Removing their shelter, however imperfect it may be, will leave them open and vulnerable.”

Nightswan leaned closer, her expression challenging. Her foot tapped against his thigh. “And what would you do? Let it stay standing, no matter how many may get crushed beneath the collapsing roof?”

“Perhaps I would simply choose to replace the roof.”

Nightswan’s eyes narrowed, and she swept her gaze over him quickly, as if looking for something she had missed the first time. “That’s a high roof, Admiral.”

“I am well aware.” 

For the first time since this had began, her body temperature changed. Through all of the anger and the teasing, she had maintained an impressive control over her own body. Now her heat increased slightly. It was the first time he became fully aware of her proximity. Close enough now to smell. Close enough to…

He cut that thought off immediately.

Something like triumph flitted through her dark eyes. When she spoke he felt her breath against his lips. “I suppose roofs and fires make no difference if the ground opens up.”

Thrawn allowed himself a small smile. “An accurate assessment.”

She tucked the data stick in the pocket of her shirt. “I’ll consider it.”

“I’ll provide you with coordinates and a ship when-”

“No,” she said, voice quiet but sharp. “I said I’d consider it. I’ll look at what you’ve given me and draw my own conclusions. _If_ I choose to go, I’ll contact you. You can give me the information I’ll need then.”

Thrawn sighed. “Very well.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, as if she were still in the final stages of making a decision. Then her shoulders relaxed and she canted her head to one side.

“Well. If a recruit was all you’ve been after this whole time, I suppose I’ll be on my way. Whatever my decision is, I doubt we’ll see one another again, Admiral.”

She moved to slide off the desk and Thrawn reacted before he had time to check himself. He stood and placed his hands to either side of her, pinning her in place.

She looked up at him, the front of her pressed against him now. There was no trepidation in her eyes. Only the heat finally rising fully to the surface.

She smirked again, that same quick flash of teeth. “I love it when I’m right.”

Surging forward, Thrawn captured her mouth in a hard kiss. Nightswan grinned against his lips. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around him as she laid back on the desk.

Everything from there was heat. Heat in her mouth. Heat against his lips as he trailed them over her skin. Heat between her legs. He chased it. Craved it. Found it in the pressure and friction of her hand around him, the tightness of her body when he thrust inside. Felt it in her hot panting breaths against his shoulder. Tasted it as it flooded his mouth and she collapsed back onto the desk, chest heaving, incandescent.

Heat like the flames that had destroyed Creekpath. Heat enough to melt the glaciers of Csilla.

It still lingered in him over an hour later, after she had dressed and quietly slipped out, and all other traces of her in his office had faded. Thrawn reclined back in his chair and laid his head back, staring up at the ceiling. His uniform jacket still hung open and he reached up to absently touch the buttons at his throat, recalling the way her fingers had dipped beneath the collar to brush against skin as she had worked at them.

With a faint smile, he straightened and pulled his datapad close. He passed his fingers over it and opened it back up to the tibanna gas report. It seemed almost a new memory to him now, reshaped and reformed in the fire of the past hour. He skimmed over it, allowing his mind to pull out the details that had caught his attention in the first place.

When it came to the minutiae at the bottom, however, he paused. The coordinates were something he remembered distinctly. It had been the starting point of a larger mental map he had updated every time he had come across something he had been able to attach in some way to Nightswan. The coordinates written here were wrong.

Tilting his head, he scrolled back to the top and looked at the date. It had been changed to a time a little over a week from now. Beneath it, entered into the small space usually reserved for some brief notations, was a single phrase: _Death Star_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I thought it would be fun to play with the idea of Cygni being the face of a partnership, with a woman as his silent other half in the Nightswan identity. Constructive criticism and friendly comments are welcome.


End file.
